The Evidence Never Lies
by n4trix
Summary: For the Sylar Claire Ficathon on LJ June 2010 - What if Sylar assumed Claire would fall into his arms once she knew he was "reformed?" What happens when she doesn't and he relapses into his old ways? Maybe Claire secretly wants the old Sylar back...


**Title:** The Evidence Never Lies  
**Author:** brandie/br4nd13  
**Written For:** raitheemohugger (LJ)  
**Characters:** Sylar/Claire, Noah  
**Rating/Warnings:** NC-17 (for dubcon → kindacon, _very mild_ mentions of blood-play, _naughty_ words and smut)  
**Category:** Oneshot, ficathon entry.  
**Spoilers:** The entire series.  
**Summary:** (evolved from the prompt) What if Sylar assumed Claire would fall into his arms once she knew he was "reformed?" What happens when she doesn't and he relapses into his old ways? Maybe Claire wants the old Sylar back and has to find out the hard way.  
**AN:** As always, an infinite amount of thanks goes to my beta losingntrnslatn (LJ). She's not even in this fandom and she puts up with my Sylaire naughtiness. I do think she'd get a kick out of the title, though... ;) I hope I didn't lose scope of the original prompt...

"What are you doing here?" she hissed, her eyes darting toward the end of the hallway. _So much for the security in this building…_

"I just wanted to see how you were doing," he replied casually, drawing a few strands of her hair into his fingers. Silky soft and regenerating, her hair would always be perfect. "Can't a friend drop in, unannounced?"

Indignant, she internally huffed. "Sure they can," Claire offered as she removed the hair from his caress, "but we're not friends."

"Oh, you wound me, Claire," Sylar half-mocked, drawing his hands to his heart as if he'd been injured.

"We both know that's hardly possible, so maybe it's time you drop the bullshit and tell me why you're really here." She crossed her arms like a petulant teenager and bounced slightly on the balls of her feet.

Sylar's demeanor changed almost instantly, as he too crossed his arms and found the nearest wall. As he leaned against it, he fixed Claire with a pointed stare. "I can't say I've missed our back and forth, Claire-bear, but that's the one thing about you I can always rely on," he said, smirking.

Claire rolled her eyes and shifted her weight on her feet.

"I actually dropped by to ask you a question. You see, Claire, I've made some… observations. And I'd like to, shall we say, _act_upon them," he explained, straightening his posture to stand at full height. "Observations about you… observations about me…"

Claire's eyes widened, just slightly, and they were the only indication that she heard his vague words. "Observations?" she questioned. "Care to elaborate?"

"Why certainly, my dear," he said with practiced smoothness as he stepped a bit closer. "You see, we're both immortal—"

"—fast forward to the parts I _don't_ know," she interrupted.

Sylar quickly closed the fingers on his right hand, effectively shutting Claire's mouth and silencing her. "As I was saying, we're both immortal… we're both existing in this 'brave new world' you so thoughtfully created, which I never got to thank you for, by the way."

Claire's eyes pleaded with him to continue, to cut to the chase.

"Right. And we're both single…"

Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline as she tried, in vain, to speak through his telekinetic hold on her mouth.

Sylar formed a sly grin, pleased. "I'll release the hold if you behave."

With a few vigorous nods, Claire felt her jaw become freed. She unconsciously brought a hand up to rub it, though she could feel no soreness or pain. "You've been stalking me?" she accused harshly.

He answered her question with a sharp laugh. "Please, Claire. Give me a little credit."

She scrunched her face as the thought popped into her mind. "Peter?" she asked, wincing slightly.

"Bingo," he claimed, a little too triumphantly. He quickly back peddled when he witnessed the fury build in her tiny frame. "I mean," he started, "he said it in passing… probably didn't even mean to! He was talking to Emma and… I guess I overheard them. Supersonic hearing, go figure." He laughed, trying to divert attention from the fact that he just threw his friend and ex-roommate under the bus, and bring the conversation back to its original purpose.

"I'm going to kill him," she said, half-heartedly.

"Knock it off. It's not his fault. I had a vested interest in the conversation," he said with a predatory grin, "which brings me back to why I'm here," he continued.

"Spill it, then."

He paused for a moment as he lost his composure just slightly. "I… propose we go out. Dinner, movie… whatever, let's see what happens. Why not exist, immortally, together, ya know?"

Claire stared at him, her expression a half-gawk, half-surprise. This was certainly comical. Finally, after a pregnant pause, she blurted "You've got to be kidding me, right? No… _NO_! A thousand times, _NO!"_

Sylar's expression hardened. He figured she would at least be a _little_ receptive to the idea. After all, he'd changed… he wasn't the villain anymore.

"What in the _world_ would make you think I'd ever entertain your… your _delusion_ that we could be together? You're a psychopath, Sylar, a certifiable _whackjob_! You… you eat brains or some other disgusting shit!"

"I don't _eat_ the brains, Claire, and I don't do _any_ of that anymore. I've changed… I'm a hero now, don't you see that?" he argued. "Haven't you spoken to Peter?"

"Sure, but not about _you_!" she gasped, throwing her hands to her head as she began to pace in the hallway. "Why would we discuss the one person on this planet I _hate_?" She stopped in front of him and squared off, toe to toe. He still towered above her, but she felt empowered and tall. "Leave, Sylar. Just leave me alone," she spelled out, slowly, "Leave. Me. _Alone_."

He met her stare equally, with just as much fury. She proceeded to embarrass him, kick him while he was down, and all in the span of only three minutes. He _could_ fry her into non-existence with a fucking thought. The realization sent familiar (and sorely missed) tinges of pleasure up his spine. An arc of blue energy jumped between his thumbs and fingers as he continued to fixate upon her gaze. A mere flick of the wrist and she'd taunt him no longer…

But he had a better idea.

The electricity ceased to flow from his fingers as he stepped back. His eyes never left hers as he made to leave. With furrowed brows and an expression he hadn't used in nearly a year, he left her with four simple words: "See you around, cheerleader."

It was weeks before she thought about Sylar and his obvious threat. During that time, she considered calling her father and at the very least, tell him what happened, but she didn't really want to involve him. She thought about calling Peter and telling him, not-so-delicately, to keep his big mouth shut… but then he'd insist on becoming involved too. The whole situation was probably being blown out of proportion anyway, Claire thought. If he's truly been reformed, he'd leave her alone. For the greater good and all that other hero crap, right?

So, for weeks, she continued on with her daily life. That is, until she was stopped in her tracks by a news report she saw on TV.

_"…A SoHo man was found dead in his apartment Tuesday night. Police are describing the homicide as 'brutal and disturbing' – the victim's head had been cut into and the brain left exposed. Investigators remain optimistic, even as the count for similar homicides continues to rise. Stay with News 6 for more details as the investigation continues. In other news, in Central Park…"_

Claire couldn't move… she could barely breathe. It had to be him, no one else could share his "style." Her heart thrummed angrily behind her ribcage as she broke out of the spell and moved through her apartment, toward the kitchen.

"Reformed, my _ass_," she said to herself as she reached for the phone. She had to call her father… if he didn't already know about this, he couldn't afford anymore wasted time. Chances were that he was well aware, but it made her feel better to assist him, even in vain.

She thumbed through her contacts for Noah's number and initiated the call. He greeted her after the first ring.

"Hey, Daddy," she said with a small smile, hoping to convey a little strength through the phone.

"Claire-bear… is something wrong?"

Claire sighed and launched into a tirade. "Dad, are you in town? Have you seen the news? I have a really really bad feeling about that string of murders. I'm afraid it's —"

As if on cue, the object of her phone call walked toward her from around the corner, one hand clamped shut to silence and paralyze her, the other with one finger raised to his lips. "Shhh…"

"…it's what, Claire?" Noah paused and sighed. The sound of the phone being shifted on his shoulder could be heard over the line. "I was hoping you wouldn't hear about them. Lauren and I think Sylar may be involved," he said, sounding resigned. "But don't you worry about a thing, Claire-bear. We've been keeping tabs on him, with Peter's help. He won't set foot near you as long as I can help it."

Claire's voice failed her – Sylar must have clamped down on her vocal cords. She wanted to scream, to warn her father that he was wrong, _oh so wrong_, and that Sylar was standing before her. But she couldn't even blink… and with that, eyes wide open, she watched him shape shift and mold his body to form hers, right down to the clothes she was wearing. Horrified, she could do nothing as he walked toward her and plucked the phone from her grasp.

"That's good news, Daddy," Sylar said, using her voice, "I just wanted to make sure you knew, but who am I kidding? You're more in the loop than anyone else I know!" He added a cutesy laugh to add levity to the situation. Claire rolled her eyes. "Let's meet up for lunch in a couple weeks… okay, love you Daddy… bye!"

He snapped the phone shut and released the hold on Claire, forcing her to tumble backwards, hitting the counter top. Righting herself, she snapped her head up and snarled. "Get out of my body, Sylar!"

"Oh, I don't see why, Claire-bear," he mused as he ran his hands over his new body, squeezing the softer flesh he found. "I could get used to this," he smirked. He actually managed to _appear_ like him, even in her skin.

The sight of him touching her body only further enraged her. "Change back now, you sick fuck!"

"Aw, you're no fun…" he trailed off as his skin rippled and shifted back into his own form. "You can't tell me you've never fantasized about that…" he winked suggestively.

"No," she bit back. "You disgust me!"

Sylar was surprised to feel himself tingle at the remark. What was she lying about… the fantasy or…?

She was seething. "I thought I told you to leave me alone?" she forced out, darkly. She suddenly remembered the events of the past couple minutes. Quickly, she inquired, "So, what, got bored with cutting into random heads across the city? I thought you said you were a changed man?"

"Bored? No," Sylar stated as he used the puppet master's power to move her to a nearby couch. He sat her down and placed himself uncomfortably close to where she sat. "Changed? Well, that one's complicated." Mimicking a shared time in a hotel room, he leaned over to invade Claire's personal space. He inhaled deeply.

Claire shivered and glared, angry that her body unwittingly reacted to him.

"You see, Claire," he whispered, for no other reason than to be close, "being reformed… being a hero… would mean I'd have to save someone. People might respect me, not for my powers, but for my actions. Do you think I've been respected, Claire?"

"No," she said, staring forward at a spot on the wall.

"And have you respected me? Have you, even once, acknowledged that I changed?"

"No, because you _haven't_ changed." Her eyes shot to the side, trying to emphasize her point with a look.

Again, a small tingle ran through his body. Apparently, she didn't even believe her own words. Sylar backed away slightly and instead focused on playing with the hair that rested by his hand. "Well… that's a lie. At least, to you it is."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she blurted and looked away.

He paused in his ministrations and stared at the side of her head, as if it would tell him the answers he sought after. She thought he changed, but didn't believe it? Or maybe, she thought he changed, but didn't want it…

"Interesting."

"Oh yeah? What's that?" she snapped.

"I think somebody didn't like it when big bad Sylar changed teams," he said, using his best talking-to-Mr. Muggles voice. While he may have sounded immature, the message was crystal clear. "Oh, the fun we're going to have, Claire…"

Before she could ask what he meant, Sylar sat back and levitated her into the air, forcing her to hover above him. She struggled some, which forced him to tighten the invisible bonds that much more.

"Somebody misses the old Sylar," he stated as he brought a hand up to point at her forehead. A thin line of red started to form at her right temple.

Though she could feel no pain, she still cringed – partly out of fright and knowing the inevitable outcome of the situation. "Sylar, stop!"

"Tell me I'm wrong," he demanded, moving to force her against the wall. He slowly stalked forward. "Tell me I'm wrong, Claire-bear."

"STOP!"

_"Say it! Say that I'm wrong!"_ The red line was nearly to her left temple and he was close enough to see the inside of the cut.

"Sylar..." she cried, "...I _can't_!"

Before he could think, Sylar tilted his head and captured her lips in a fierce kiss.

Claire struggled, as much as she could, against the hold he held upon her and from his mouth, probing tongue and all. She knew she should feel disgusted, and she grasped for a trace of the anger she felt from before, but as the kiss progressed, she felt herself succumbing to it. Her lips parted slightly, inviting him to delve deeper into her mouth.

Sylar took the opportunity and sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, nibbling it a bit before returning to the kiss. He had stopped cutting and the wound on her head was nearly healed over, thus freeing his hands to move to her sides, teasing the exposed skin he found underneath her shirt.

She gasped at the foreign contact and it was enough to break the spell of the moment. The next time Sylar snaked his tongue into her mouth, she didn't waste a moment and bit down... _hard_.

Claire crumpled to the floor, as Sylar's concentration was disturbed just long enough to break the telekinetic hold. She looked up just in time to see him backing away from her, stumbling over a side table and holding his mouth as blood gushed out from between his fingers.

Spitting blood on the floor, Sylar struggled to speak. "Yoo... bith!" he spat, his words almost recognizable.

Panting, Claire chose that moment to spit out the tip of his tongue onto the floor. "Aww, poor baby. That must hurt!" she taunted, breathlessly.

At about the same time the tip of his old tongue landed on the floor, he had regenerated enough of a new one to speak clearly. A deep, rumbling laugh emanated from his chest. Sneering and looking vicious, he taunted back "Claire, Claire, Claire... I had no idea you were into blood-play."

"Hardly, you fucking psychopath."

"You keep calling me that," Sylar prodded defiantly, "but you need to take a long, hard look at yourself, little girl. Who was the one kissing me just a moment ago, hm?"

"Fuck off!" she yelled, scrambling to get up and run to the apartment door. Within mere steps of her exit, she again found herself completely paralyzed.

Sylar stood and whipped her around to face him. "Not so fast, I'm far from done with you," he growled, tossing her across the room and against the wall once more. As she went to argue, he snapped her mouth shut. "And this time, not a peep from you, missy."

Telekinetically, he sliced her shorts off, admiring them as they fluttered to the floor below. Leaving her in her panties and running his hands up her smooth legs, he mused, more to himself than to Claire, "We're meant to be together, you and I, for so, _so_ many reasons."

Claire's eyes widened – the anger shining back at him, but with a tinge of something indescribable.

Cooler, calloused fingers made their way up her thighs and toward her panties. Sylar paused for a moment before running one finger underneath the seam by her center. The sensation caused her to shudder, something so involuntary that he couldn't control it.

Why was her body betraying her like this? She forced thoughts into her head: Nathan, Meredith, Jackie, everyone who she ever cared for that he had taken away. But it couldn't stop the wetness from forming between her legs, nor the longing she felt for someone to touch her... _right there_.

"Exhibit A, cheerleader," he breathed out while running a long finger past the cotton of her panties and in between her lips. Sticky wetness coated the digit. "I bet no one has turned you on like this in a long, long while..."

_Fuck you_, she screamed at him in her head.

Sylar lowered himself to his knees and moved his hands to the top of her hips, lightly tugged at the panties and inching them down her legs. Once off, he sling-shotted them across the room, growling in amusement when he managed to land them on a lampshade. Refocusing his attention on the task at hand, he leaned forward to where his nose was nearly tickled by the blonde curls that nested between her legs. He inhaled fully, taking in her unique scent and exhaled gently, effectively inducing goose-flesh to rise everywhere around the area.

"I bet you taste good, Claire."

She refused to look at him, to see what he was doing to her, so she scowled and focused her eyes across the room.

"You wouldn't know, would you? You wouldn't know how sweet you must taste," he questioned and drew back to look up at her.

Sensing he was waiting for a reaction, she quickly met his gaze, sending daggers at him.

"Kinky girl..." he muttered as he returned to admiring the gift presented before him. He leaned in, using both hands to part her moist lips, and tentatively stuck his tongue out to taste her.

Again, Claire tried thinking of completely non-sexual things to distract her from the acute pleasure she was experiencing. _Murder victims, puppies, sewage spills, spiders..._

"Exhibit B," Sylar mumbled into her pussy, noting how she trembled slightly when he glossed over her clit. He was thankful that his powers subdued her voluntary reactions, leaving the delicious involuntary ones to thrive, solely due to his actions.

Scooting forward on his knees, he dove in and attacked her clit with enthusiasm. Sylar brushed his tongue back and forth over the nub, varying pressures and speeds until he found a rhythm Claire's body seemed to appreciate. Her legs twitched with every stroke, encouraging him to back off and prolong her climax as well as he could. The tip of his tongue breeched her hole and he was pleased to find ample wetness there. _Maybe another time..._

His hands moved from her cunt, around her thighs to her soft backside. There were little indentations from the texture on the wall, so he kneaded them away as he continued to fuck her with his tongue. He flicked her hole quickly, lightly, then forced the length of his tongue inside as far as it could reach. Sylar's tongue took the place where his cock should have (and soon would, he figured). He curled it slightly, rubbing all the right places.

_Violated, I should feel violated right now_, she told herself. Claire scrunched her eyes closed, allowing no light to penetrate.

He felt her tense. Another involuntary reaction? Slowly, his tongue fell from the warmth of her center and his hands moved back to her thighs. He played with her lips, delicately nipping at them before moving back in to her clit. The flat of his tongue encompassed the nub. He pressed hard and undulated his tongue to vary the pressure. To his delight, her legs began twitching once more.

Tears seeped out from between Claire's eyes, but she wasn't sure exactly why.

Sylar sat back on his feet and moved a hand to replace his tongue, letting the pad of his thumb mimic his previous efforts. His gaze made its way to her face, where he noticed the tear tracks running down her cheeks. Unfortunately for him, the sight made him pause, long enough for Claire to open her eyes to see why.

He met her eyes and stared deeply as his thumb idly played with her clit. He got more forceful, flicking the nub and causing her to close her eyes again, though relaxed.

"Claire..." he continued flicking and sing-songed her name, "Clai-re...?"

She opened her eyes, lazily and looked at him once more.

_Is that resignation?_ He wondered. The thought made his hardened, and uncomfortably cramped dick throb.

"Do you want me to keep going?" he ventured as he moved a finger to her entrance.

Another tiny tear escaped the corner of her eye as she nodded her head vigorously. _Don't stop now, you asshole._

Never in his wildest imagination would he have ever expected to have Claire-_fucking_-Bennett spread against a wall, eyes pleading with him to finger-fuck her into oblivion. Sylar unconsciously palmed his dick through his pants and closed his eyes at the thought.

"Exhibit C," he exhaled as he slid his middle finger into her waiting pussy. "You've fucking wanted me all along..."

Claire's eyes rolled slightly back into her head as his finger fucked her mercilessly. His mouth gravitated toward her clit, his lips surrounding the swollen nub. He sucked hard and nipped at it with his teeth, sending shooting spikes of pleasure to Claire's extremities.

_Close... close, damnit, close_, she internally panted. She looked down to watch, but could only spot his mess of dark hair shaking slightly in sync with his head. _Just get me off so I can go back to hating you!_

A frustratingly small spark shot out from his tongue, hitting her engorged clit with just enough force to send her over the edge. Quick thinking allowed him to remove the telekinetic muzzle so that he could hear her cries – she didn't disappoint.

"Unghhhh... _jeeeeeeeeeesus_, don't stop!" she grunted out, clenching down on his finger, hard, and in pulses.

Sylar suddenly broke away from her pussy and stood to his full height. His finger remained deep within her while he moved in to kiss her once again. He tipped her head back and thrust his tongue into her mouth, pleased that she didn't bite it off this time and was actually actively participating.

Claire tasted her tangy, yet salty essence on his lips, on his tongue, as she returned his kiss and rode out her orgasm, prolonging it for as long as she could muster. She could feel his hardness on her leg and was shocked to discover him effectively dry-humping her while she came down from her high.

Breaking the kiss abruptly, she craned her neck to whisper into his ear, "Come for me, you fucking psychopath... _come!"_

Not needing permission (but welcoming it nonetheless), Sylar groaned and nuzzled her neck, biting down and breaking the skin as he shot his load into his pants. Four long pulses and he was spent, the warmth already beginning to seep through the cloth and onto her leg.

They both were breathing hard, both overwhelmed by what had just happened and both not terribly anxious to return to their warped sense of "normalcy."

Claire was still pinned to the wall like a butterfly and was the first to regain her senses. "...Now, get the _fuck_ off of me," she seethed into his ear.

He huffed in exasperation, chuckling and forcing a few strands of her hair to tickle her neck. Sylar licked the spot where he previously bit down, noticing how it was healed over already and withdrew his finger with a squishy _pop_. He offered her a lopsided, yet menacing grin as he backed away and released his telekinetic hold. She crumpled to the floor once more, but didn't give him the pleasure of frantically finding something to cover herself with. It was far too late to become bashful.

After taking a moment to look at Claire, scoring an internal victory as he noted her disheveled and limp form, he figured it was time to make his exit. "Well, that was... _educational_," he quipped, nonchalantly making his way to the apartment door. "Thanks, Claire-bear."

She glared at his retreating form, too emotionally spent to argue.

He opened the door with a flick of his hand, but paused at the threshold. Turning to look back at Claire, he smirked, "Let's do this again sometime, shall we?"

A pointed look and a raised fist, middle finger extended, was all he received in reply.

"Next time, cheerleader, next time," he ended with a smug chuckle and exited her apartment, slamming the door shut.

She sighed, stood up and went to retrieve her panties. "...I hope so," she admitted.

In the stairwell, two floors down, Sylar paused and stopped his foot mid-step. He cocked his head slightly, and then shook it slowly in amusement. "Supersonic hearing... it _definitely_ has its perks."

**END**


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